


First Winter in Oregon

by theblindtorpedo



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Mystery Trio, One Shot, Snowball Fight
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-17
Updated: 2015-07-17
Packaged: 2018-04-09 17:49:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4358534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theblindtorpedo/pseuds/theblindtorpedo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Don’t you dare throw that snowba-, goddammit!”</p>
            </blockquote>





	First Winter in Oregon

The cold hit the side of Stan’s neck, snow traitorously finding the small space between skin and cloth at his collar. Stan shuddered as the sanctum of his winter coat was invaded, melting ice seeping down where it had no right to be. He glared back in the direction of where the offending weapon had come. Fiddleford leaned against a tree, smug as a cat. His black trenchcoat accentuated his thinness and he looked especially small in comparison to the looming whiteness that surrounded him. But Stan knew from experience never to underestimate the other man. He stalked towards him, intent on dealing retribution, scooping up more snow in his fist. That nerd would pay! Fiddleford McGucket had first seen snow at the ripe age of 18, but he threw like he’d had many winters practice.

“My, these are remarkable. This Oregon snow is quite different consistency than I am used to.” Fiddleford bounced another snowball in his hand. “I wonder if I could build a machine to construct and propell these at maximum speed,” the scientist mused, his smile turning into a devious smirk. He moved away from the tree and began walking leisurely away from the steadily approaching Stan.

Stan made his move.

“Ah!”

Suddenly, all was bright blue sky. Fiddleford found himself on his back, a familiar weight on top of him. Stan’s face swung into view, leaning down to blow hot air across Fiddleford’s face.

“Gotcha.” He grinned.

Fiddleford looped his arms around the other man's neck, pulling him further down on top of him. 

“Maybe I wanted to be caught.”

Stan rested his forehead against Fiddleford's; the smaller man sighed in delight. The ex-boxer was propped up enough not to crush the other, but still keeping their bundled chests pressed close together. They lay there, taking silent comfort in feeling each other's breathing. One of Fiddleford's hands idly stroked Stan's jaw. Time had frozen, just like the snow around them. Until, the door of the Mystery Shack opened.

“BREAK TIMES OVER.  STANLEY, I NEED WOOD. GO CHOP ME AT LEAST FIVE LOGS. FIDS, I HAVE SOME NEW READINGS FOR YOU TO LOOK AT.”

Stan stood up, pulling Fiddleford by his wrist to follow. A firm hand dusted the snow off the scientists back.

“See ya after work.” He gave Fiddleford a quick kiss on the cheek before jogging to grab an axe from beside the shack. Fiddleford fondly watched him move to the edge of the clearing to begin his task, before trudging back to meet Stanford inside the house.

Despite the weather, he felt decidedly warm.


End file.
